


The Fundraiser

by 9th_hennepin



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animals, Dogs, F/M, It gets better I swear, Original Character(s), Smut, Tony Stark Feels, originally posted on Tumblr and Fanfiction.net, started out as a oneshot, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:39:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2328872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9th_hennepin/pseuds/9th_hennepin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After bumping into the platinum playboy turned iron superhero at her father's fundraiser, Lucile finds herself raising much more than funds with Tony Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Moved here from Fanfiction.net from where it was moved from Tumblr... 
> 
> Not much to explain, I'm new to AO3 so be nice?

Fundraisers, no matter how important they may be, are by far the most boring events that man had ever created.

And that’s including catholic mass, book clubs and other people’s high school graduations.

But it was my father’s organization and I was obligated to show up and play the proud, humble daughter. At least there was an open bar.

The dinner consisted of five courses of revolting, high-class “French” food that tasted like it was prepared by a mad scientist that lost his taste buds in a freak chemical explosion. And everyone around me must have been in similar accidents since they seemed to be enjoying the tiny portions of garbage. Really, I thought the night would have gone over better if they served pizza and had a sundae bar.

The only good thing about the meal were the bottomless champagne glasses that the waiters always seemed to fill back up at the perfect moment. Drinking was the only thing that would get me through this night with a shred of sanity left.

After the tables were cleared, my father got up and made a touching speech about how the money raised tonight would be spent and introduced some of the people that donated the most. Among the highest was Tony Stark, the platinum playboy turned iron super hero. I have to admit that I was a fan of the man’s work, but I was getting a little sick of hearing about Iron Man constantly. Even though he did look _nice_ tonight.

Eventually, the speech was over, applause filled the room and music started to play indicating that it was time to dance and mingle. I immediately made a beeline for the bartender and ordered a whisky sour. Now was the time to look as small as possible and hope to Jesus that nobody comes up to try to talk to me.

For most of the night people pretty much ignored me. There were a few that recognized me and tried to talk to me about my dad, but I was able to tolerate them with a gracious smile. Things were going better than I could have ever expected. I ordered another drink and mistakenly let my guard down.

“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?” A suave, self-confident voice asked from behind me. I turned around sharply and was suddenly face to face with the Iron Man himself.

I snorted, rather un-ladylike and replied “No” with some difficulty.

Tony gave me his best panty wetting smirk, ordered a scotch on the rocks and sat down on the bar stool to my right. “So, what brings you here tonight? No, let me guess. Uh, self-important boyfriend dragged you along?”

“Ha, close. My dad is Charles DeVane. And I don’t have a _boyfriend_.”

“DeVane, huh? Then that would make you Lucile.”

“I am Lucile,” I told him, taking a sip of my drink.

“Well Lucile, it’s nice to meet you. I’m-“

“Tony Stark, yes I know. We _all_ know,” I cut him off.

He laughed and at that moment I knew he had me ensnared in his little trap. I began to wonder just what that well-trimmed facial hair would feel like tickling my inner thigh. The nature of my thoughts must have been apparent on my face because Tony leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“Would you like to get out of here?”

Of course I agreed and, after a quick text to my dad and the most sexually charged drive I have ever taken, Tony Stark was leading up the steps and into his enormous Malibu home.

But I didn’t even have a chance to take in the gorgeous house. Once inside, Tony pushed me up against a wall and kissed me with so much ferocity that it took my breath away.  Once my brain started to function again, I kissed him back hungrily, savoring the taste of his mouth on my tongue.

After a delicious moment, Tony’s hands made their way up from my hips to the zipper of my dress and gave a fumbling, blind tug. I pulled back before he could unfasten it halfway.

“Mmm, bedroom?” I asked, not exactly wanting to get naked in the foyer of his high tech mansion. It was too _open._

“Right,” he replied and abruptly bent down, threw me over his shoulder and took off to where I assumed his bedroom was.

I was giggling insanely. The mixture of alcohol and the absurdness of the situation was making me giddy and lightheaded. It was extremely freeing. And the view of his tight ass I had because of the position made me quite excited as well.

Tony couldn’t make it to the bedroom fast enough. The relatively short distance felt like miles, but he finally reached it, stumbled in and tossed me unceremoniously on the California-king sized, luscious bed.  He grinned down at me sprawled out on his bed for a moment before ripping his suit jacket off, kicking off his shoes and joining me.

No time was wasted in removing my clothes. Tony seemed to be an old pro at divesting women because I was outta my dress and undergarments faster than I could even comprehend. I felt vulnerable being naked and stretched out on the bed while Tony remained clothed, but it quickly passed once he closed the gap between us and pressed his mouth roughly against mine, his nimble hands caressing and memorizing every available inch of my body. I was in sensory heaven.

I latched on to him like a sloth, slowly moving my hands up and down his torso, grasping desperately at his shirt, needing to feel his skin on my skin. When he pulled away and moved to remove the shirt though, he paused for a minute and a fleeting look of doubt flashed across his face. His sudden hesitation made me wonder if I was the first girl he had taken home with him since the _incident_.

That thought barely had a chance to cross my mind before Tony aggressively ripped his shirt off and removed the rest of his clothes. I didn’t get long to admire his body, or observe the softly glowing, blue circle implanted in his chest, before he was on top of me, kissing and sucking on my neck and shoulders.

I couldn’t stifle the moan that had risen in my chest. “Tony…” I panted.

“Hmm?” he mumbled into my skin.

“Hurry up.”

He brought his face back up to meet mine and smiled like a little boy. “Gladly, my dear!”

Tony flipped us so I was on top, straddling his hip. I could feel his readiness and it thrilled me, but when I looked down at his face I saw the same doubt from before. Like he was self-conscious because of the arc reactor. It was subtle though, and I could tell that if I brought it up that he would be uncomfortable, so I simply leaned down and planted a sweet, gentle kiss on the warm cover of the reactor. When I sat back up he was beaming up at me with a rakish look on his face.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured then started to press light, wet kisses around my belly button. It gave me goose bumps.

His wandering hands soon found their way to my aching core and after a few quick strokes to make sure I was ready, he guided his member up into me. We both groaned at the exquisite sensation. There was a slight pause.

The next second was filled with fast, delicious movement. Tony was wonderfully well-endowed and when he’d thrust up, he would fill me so completely that I felt like I would burst. He let me ride him at first and just laid back with his hands on my hips and his eyes rolled into his skull, but soon he became impatient and rolled us over.

Once Tony was on top he began to slam into my body with such abandon and power that I thought he meant to break me in two. He was rough to a point where there was a delicious pain deep inside that mingled with the pleasure. It was unlike anything I had ever felt and it quickly brought upon me the most intense climax.

It wasn’t long before Tony followed me into post-orgasmic bliss and collapsed beside me. “Fuck,” he breathed.

I couldn’t speak. My brain was completely wiped clean, but I managed to curl up into his side when he stretched his arm around my shoulders.

“I really needed that,” he said softly. I barely registered his voice before I drifted peacefully and exhaustedly off to sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

3:59. The neon, kelly green numbers winked at me in the darkness from their seemingly invisible perch on the night stand. It took my addled brain a moment to realize that they were a hologram, projected by the high-tech mansion instead of an actual alarm clock. And that thought plunged me back into reality, back to the bedroom where I was lying naked and tangled in the sheets with a notorious womanizer. 

Running a shaky hand through my mussed up hair, I sighed and sat up in the strange bed. What the fuck was I thinking? Tony fucking Stark? A veritable cascade of shame and humiliation washed over me. Of all the people in all the world, I chose to have a one-night-stand with Iron Man. And on one of the most important nights of my father’s career.

Quietly filling up with self-hate and regret, I peered down at the warm, sleeping body laying next to me and groaned. Even through the self loathing, I still found him achingly handsome. He looked different when he slept, less intense. Asleep you could really see the lines of his face and the hint of gray that was creeping up in his beard. He looked vulnerable, making me feel like I was intruding on a extremely personal moment. 

As I slowly unwound my limbs from the silky sheets, trying hard not to disturb him, some of the shame gave way to a need to simply slink away home, like a dog with its tail between its legs. To make the situation less painfully awkward, I decided to just leave Tony with any sort of warning and call my best friend to come pick me up once I was safely outside the limits of the vast house. Now that I had a task in mind, a purpose for the time being, I relaxed a little and focused solely on it. 

Walking naked around Tony’s bedroom, I gathered up my discarded things one by one; bra, dress, shoes, hand bag. I was starting to get dressed when I hit a slight road bump. My underwear were nowhere to be seen. 

Mildly panicking, I scoured the room as best I could, but with only the crescent moon as a  light the task proved fruitless. I swore vehemently under my breath and nervously paced around, tugging at my long hair. I briefly entertained the thought of leaving my panties behind and going home commando, but I didn’t think my dignity could handle such a violent blow. So I returned to my desperate search, now clawing slowly through the sheets in hopes they got tangled in there somewhere. But once again I came up empty handed.

Then Tony sighed and rolled over in his sleep, startling me just enough to cause me to jump and bang my elbow hard against the head board. I swore again, but loudly this time, my voice almost echoing in the spacious room. Slapping my hand to cover my big mouth, I chewed my lip in pain and prayed to god that Tony Stark was a heavy sleeper. A prayer which might have gone over better if I actually believed in god.

“NO!” Tony awoke like a gunshot, breathing heavily and fumbling for a moment in the dark before he got his bearings. I winced as he wordlessly turned on the bedside lights. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, sounding both relieved and angry. I shrugged and avoided his eyes.

“I uh, I can’t find my underwear,” I meekly replied. I watched as a smirk played across his face. Suddenly my nakedness became painfully obvious and I grew horribly self conscious. Tony’s smirk widened as he lifted an arm and gestured behind me.

I spun around, glad for an excuse to not look at him, and squeaked at what I found on the large dresser. My frilly polka dotted thong must have been flung away in our passionate interlude and was draped comically over a silver framed picture of a young Tony receiving his degree from MIT. I blushed deep crimson and snatched it down. Still not turning back around, I wiggled into my damned panties and moved to slide on the matching bra.

“Hold on, what are you doing?” Tony demanded of me again, this time sounding more incredulous than anything. I fastened my bra into place and slowly faced him.

“Getting dressed. Just go back to sleep and I’ll be out of your hair in a minute or two.”

“ _You’re leaving?_ ” He made it sound like I was expressing an intention to highjack a rocket to the moon. I cocked my head to the side in confusion and was suddenly hit with the realization that Tony probably never had a woman leave the bed while he was still in it. He was always careful to be the one that left.

“Um, yeah. I really need to get home. I had a nice time though,” I added in an attempt to soothe his ego. 

“You don’t have-” He started but trailed off, looking adorably confused. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stared blearily back at me. “You’re leaving?” he asked again. Clearly, he was having a hard time coming to grasps with the situation.

“Sorry,” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. He wasn’t the only one experiencing something shockingly new.

After a moment of awkward silence, I bent down to pick my dress off the floor and caught a whiff of the mixtures of orders that my body was saturated in. I smelled like an alcoholic hooker. Hating myself more than ever, I turned back to Tony.

“Shit, do you mind if I use your shower? I really don’t want to stumble home smelling like, well-” I winced again.

“Sex,” Tony supplied, still looking slightly dazed. “No, go ahead. The door to your right.”

“Cool,“ I said like an idiot. Shaking my head, I thanked him, scooped up my things and carried them into the room he pointed out. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the lights automatically turned on as my feet crossed onto the tiled floor. Once the bathroom was illuminated, I couldn’t help but gasp.

“Jesus fucking Christ! You could host a dinner party in here,” I exclaimed, looking around at the giant shower and Jacuzzi-sized bath tub. There was even a goddamn high definition television mounted to the wall between two large mirrors. I heard Tony laugh from the bed.

It took me a while to figure out how to turn on the high-tech shower and even longer to figure out how to make the water not skin scaldingly hot. But I succeeded finally and stripped my underwear back off and gingerly slid under the water. Immediately, my body relaxed and the tension seemed to just melt right off my shoulder. Never underestimate the restorative powers of a hot shower after committing some regretfully dirty acts.

I found some soap and vigorously scrubbed my body, singing softly to myself. Totally letting my mind wander, I forgot where I was for a moment and just let myself feel _clean_. It was refreshing.

_“Since I’ve come home, well my body’s been a mess and I miss your ginger hair and the way you like to dress_ ,” I sang while my hands rubbed the sandalwood smelling soap over my midsection, until I felt an odd, rough spot on my left hip. Frowning slightly, I bent over to investigate and then my heart stopped cold.

Where my birth control patch should be, there was only the grey, sticky outline of the adhesive left on my skin. I don’t think I have ever screamed as loud as I did that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :D


	3. Chapter Three

Tony handled the situation a little more rationally than I had. After running butt-naked into the bathroom thinking, and I quote, that I “must have been being skinned alive,” and realizing that despite my blood curdling scream I was physically fine, he calmly opened the frosted glass shower door, turned off the water and persuaded me to explain my alarming episode.

Still soaking wet and lightly brushed with soap suds, I stopped hyperventilating long enough to utter the words _gone, birth control, unprotected_ and whimper pathetically to myself. Tony’s calm façade faltered a bit, but after taking a deep breath, he gently told me to quit my babbling.

“No need to panic, Lily-”

“It’s Lucy- fuck, I mean _Lucile_ ,” I corrected, groaning into my hands. His inopportune forgetting of my name made me want to throw up.

“That’s what I said,” he replied, dismissively waving his hand. Then he threw on his monogrammed bathrobe from off its hook and continued. “Granted, this isn’t an ideal situation, it is a relatively easy fix. When I have my driver take you home, I’ll have him stop off at the 24 hour pharmacy and there you can pick up the morning after pill. Then just send my PA the receipt and I’ll be more than happy to reimburse you.”

The way he said it, like he was simply giving a stranger directions to the nearest gas station, almost made me angry. Here I was freaking the fuck out and he had the audacity to treat it like it happened  everyday. I noticed my hands were trembling slightly and I as I brought them up to my face, I balked in the realization of something potentially catastrophic.

“One _tiny_ little problem with that,” I took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m _allergic_ to the morning after pill. I-I took it once in college and wound up in the hospital for a week.”

At this Tony became speechless, reverting back somewhere into the recesses of that vast, genius mind of his. 

Seeing the great Iron Man rendered silent triggered some rational, problem solving part of my mind to start functioning again, and I was able to see through the hysterical haze of panic that had clouded everything. “It will be okay,” I started, sounding like I was speaking to an insolent toddler on the brink of tantrum. My tone adjusted to one of more confidence as I continued and actually believed what I was saying. “When I get home, I’ll just put another patch on and-”

“Or two or three,” Tony came to life long enough to throw in, looking anxious and exhausted. I glared back at him.

“Right, because _poisoning myself_ is really the best option,” I snapped back at him. Tony just shrugged.

“Look, I think we’re overreacting… right? I mean statistically the situation is in our favor.”

“Statistics mean nothing to the individual, Lucy,” he waved his hand rudely at me again and sighed.

“ _Lucile_ ,” I grumbled, correcting him at of force of habit. My father was the only person with permission to call me Lucy and certainly some egotistical, calculating, impersonal, billionaire of a one night stand had not earned that liberty.

A moment followed where neither of us could think of anything to say. Not that anything that could have been said would have made any difference anyway. This incredible feeling of helplessness had settled deep into my bones and judging by the look on his face, I could tell that Tony was overcome by a similar feeling. We were powerless and there was little to do but wait and see, then deal with any consequences.

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly, breaking the silence and my reverie abruptly, finally letting myself become aware that I was shivering and still dripping wet. I stepped out of the shower and toweled off quietly, not wanting to be the first one to say anything.

“I’ll uh- I’ll let you get dressed,” he mumbled and Tony shuffled his way out, leaving me alone in the spacious, modern bathroom.

“Fucking hell,” I whispered, suddenly feeling both incredibly pissed off and despairingly, gut wrenchingly nervous. Despite my best efforts, my mind kept wandering to the what ifs.

_What if everything goes wrong?_

_What if I am pregnant?_

_What if Tony Stark is the father of my child?_

The need to cry and vomit at the same time overcame me and as I sat, huddled over the toilet with tears flowing like a river down my face, I realized something.

A baby I could handle. The diapers, feedings, late nights and frustrations of motherhood; I was sure I had the instincts and common sense needed to raise a kid. 

But what I knew I couldn’t handle was Tony. Having to explain to everyone that the narcissistic womanizer was the father of my first child; having to explain to my son or daughter that their dad was an arrogant celebrity that frequently endangered himself and those around him by acting as a part-time superhero. Not to mention that the way things were going, Tony Stark could soon find himself in federal custody or dead in the very near future. 

My stomach heaved again, and I vomited a second time into the pristine toilet. Groaning, I resolved myself to one thing. No matter what happened, not matter what became of this little accident, Tony Stark did not belong in my life. And I would never let him be apart of it.


	4. Chapter Four

In all the years since puberty I have never looked forward to my period with such utter desperation. Frankly, ever since the first one I dreaded that certain messy aspect of womanhood with a vengeance, but now I found myself praying for that time of the month like a farmer prays for rain to end a dry season. My whole life depended on it. So, no need to say it was an anxious, angst-ridden two weeks before my Aunt Flo was due to arrive.  
   
But no such visit ever came. The rational, coping part of my mind cited stress as the cause, which wasn’t really a long shot. I had enough bags under my eyes for a month long trip to France and the fingernails on my left hand were gnawed to the bed from my obsessive worrying. I wasn’t exactly the picture of perfect mental health.  
   
I told myself to just relax and I’d be on the rag as soon as my body was out of crisis mode. Unfortunately, after a week of herbal tea, bubble baths, early bedtimes and copious amounts of snuggling with my cat, Tuffy, the nagging, pessimistic part of me finally convinced the rest to suck it up and make the embarrassing trip to the drug store for a pregnancy test.  
   
So, dressed simply so as to not draw attention to myself and hiding behind obnoxiously large sunglasses, I slinked into a Rite-Aid. Once in the store I set off to acquire my test and home run as quick as humanly possible. Unfortunately, things didn’t  go so smoothly.  
   
First, the brilliant people at Rite-Aid thought it was a good idea to shelf the pregnancy tests at the end of the same aisle the tampons and other feminine hygiene products, which cruelly mocked me as I walked past, a bitter reminder of that which alluded me. Then, of course, a bright-faced, cheerful looking, but quite large woman was browsing the various types of tests; Thus blocking me from my query and smiling way more than anyone ever had a right to in such an aisle.

“Oh, I’m just so excited!” the woman blurted out as I tentatively approached. I forced an awkward smile, hoping like hell that it would be sufficient enough and not inspire more conversation. On a normal shopping trip I hated talking to strangers, but now with the added pressure and anxiety, the feeling was amplified. I found myself involuntarily gritting my teeth and took a deep breath.

Clearly though, the thick-headed woman took no notice of my distress because she kept on babbling.

“My husband and I have been trying for a baby for years and now I just know the lord has finally blessed us with a little angel!” She gushed, appallingly. It was _disgusting_.

“How _lovely_ ,” I said condescendingly, anger bubbling up inside me. I was not in the mood to be judged by some self-righteous WASP. “I’m just hoping my boyfriend hasn’t knocked me up. My husband’s getting paroled this weekend and I don’t have the cash for an abortion.”

As the shocked woman stood back and clutched her chest in horror, I stepped up and plucked the most expensive and accurate looking test off the shelf. As I turned to leave I flashed her my sweetest, most innocent smile.

“Have a nice day!” I called over my shoulder as I neared the register, mostly to rub it in. Messing with the innocent, religious lady had actually cheered me up a bit, but the knowing look and judging eyes of the check-out clerk brought me right back down. She was an older woman, maybe late sixties, and her arm flab jiggled as she scanned my purchase. The transaction was made in silence and it wasn’t until I was waiting for her to print my receipt that I noticed a small, yet ornate gold cross nestled into the hollow where her collar bones met. One look into her eyes and I knew not only had she heard what I said to the other woman, but she wasn’t at all happy about it.

“I am so sorry,” I blurted out, feeling vaguely like I was back in first grade being reprimanded by my elderly teacher.

“It’s not me that needs an apology,” She said sternly, gesturing towards the ceiling emphatically before ripping off the receipt and thrusting it into my hand. “Thank you and have a _blessed_ day,” she called to my retreating back as I sheepishly made my way back to my car, clinging to my bag like a lifeline and feeling more than a little guilty.

* * *

****

After that rather horrifying shopping trip, I busied myself about my apartment; washing dishes, vacuuming rugs, dusting bookshelves, any excuse not to take the test I was so anxious about. I told myself lame platitudes, like “I’ll feel all the more better when everything is clean” or “These chores need to be done whether I’m pregnant or not so I might as well get them out of the way.”

But, of course, I knew I was just stalling.

It wasn’t until around 4 o’clock, about the time I was trying to coax Tuffy into the bath and subsequently nursing a scratch down my forearm, that it finally got through to me. Prolonging this unbearable agony of not knowing would only cause me (and indirectly, poor Tuffy) to go crazy. It was more healthy to get it over with quickly, like waxing or removing a Band-Aid.

I steeled my thoughts, took a few stabilizing deep breaths and gave into fate. And five minutes later, when the egg timer signaled the end of the reaction time of the test, I nervously forced myself to stare down at the digital display and nearly wept with relief. Never had I been so happy to see the word NEGATIVE in my life.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

I woke up the following morning feeling _odd_. Sometime during the night I had broken out in a cold sweat and the covers were damp and uncomfortable, leaving me aching for a shower. The relief that had carried me off into an easy sleep had morphed into some rather disturbing dreams in my mind. Visions of decrepit, lonely, old spinsters dying horrible, painful deaths only to be found weeks later by a neighbor mingled with a corpse-eye-view of a lavish, heavily flowered funeral parlor that had everything from a full buffet table to an ice sculpture of a crystalline dove, but strikingly lacked any tearful mourners.   
  
The fact that the other side of my bed was occupied by my cat did little to help the strange emptiness that the dreams had instilled.  
  
What I found most disturbing though was the way my unconscious was practically screaming at me that I was lonely. That I would die alone and unloved. Because _I wasn’t lonely_. I had my job and my friends and a rather large extended family that met several times a year. If anything, I had an excess of people in my life! In fact, just the other day three different people asked to have lunch with me. How is that lonely?  
  
“Definitely not lonely,” I said aloud, just in case parts of my brain were still in doubt. Tuffy opened one lazy green eye and glared at me as I crawled out of bed.  
  
“Morning Tuffs!” I ruffled his fuzzy head before I padded across the room to the bathroom. Just as I was starting the shower, I heard a soft thud as my great lump of a cat rolled out of bed to go lay in the patch of sun by the window.  
  
Normally, my morning routine before work took about an hour, give or take twenty minutes or so, but for some reason things didn’t go so smoothly for me this morning.   
  
I spent most of my shower trying to find the perfect balance between hot and cold; It took me twenty minuter to find a comfortable bra;  My make-up took forever to do because I kept yawning; The coffee made me queasy; Tuffy almost tripped me twice in the kitchen; And to top it all off, my brain was so addled from the daunting combination of last night’s dream and the nagging worry that my lack of period was a precursor to some major illness, that I couldn’t even focus enough to read one paragraph of the newspaper.   
  
I guess it’s not so surprising that I was late to work that morning.

* * *

  
My father, Charles DeVane, had started his fortune in robotics and nano-technology. Three wives and a few billion dollars later, he formed his own company- Future Dynamics -and soon forged prestigious liaisons with practically every branch of the United Stated Military. Now the name DeVane could open any door, and it was expected of the sole heir to take after her father and eventually run the business.  
  
Well, I suppose I’ve always been a bit of a disappointment for dear ol’ Dad.  
  
The biggest blow to my poor father had come when I announced that I wanted to go to veterinary school in Florida instead of MIT, like he had wished. More than a few arguments and lectures were spawned from that decision, but I stuck to my guns.  
  
And now I am happily the co-owner and head vet at a shelter on the outskirts of Los Angeles, with plans to open several more locations throughout Southern California.   
  
My assistant was pacing the my office when I finally arrived almost an hour late to the shelter. He had that frazzled look about his person that almost always meant disaster. When I saw him, I seriously contemplated just going right back home and calling in sick, but he spotted me before I could slink away.  
  
“Jesus, Lucile I’ve been calling you for two hours!” he exclaimed, still pacing back and forth. Confused, I dug my cell phone out of my purse and was shocked to find it completely dead.   
  
“Sorry, Drew. I guess I forgot to charge the thing last night.” Fucking piece of shit! I irritably tossed the phone on my desk, plopped down into my chair and banged my head on the hard, cedar surface of the desk. What the hell was wrong with my brain?!  
  
Drew froze and watched my episode with a worried look on his face. “Lucile, are you-” but I cut him off before he could ask, not wanting (or knowing how) to explain my bizarre mood.  
  
“Alright, so what’s it this time?” My voice sounded like I was on the brink of tears and I was startled to find some actually welling up. My hands went to cover my face in a lame attempt to hide them from my assistant.  
  
“No, no I think I can handle it,” Drew looked so utterly confused, I probably would have laughed if it weren’t for the sob threatening to escape my throat.  
  
“But what’s happened?” I asked, after taking a deep breath. Drew had resumed his pacing and his motions were starting to make me dizzy.  
  
“Really, it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have-”  
  
“For fuck’s sake! Just tell me what’s gotten you so damn worked up!” I hadn’t wanted to yell, but it was like a crazy person had inhabited my body (mood swings and all) and I was just along for the ride. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Drew jumped about three feet in the air at the outburst.  
  
“Well, it’s just we got a check in the mail this morning,” he began, speaking softly, slowly like I was an invalid on the very cusp of death.  
  
“A donation?”  
  
He hesitated. “Yes.”  
  
“Isn’t that a good thing, Drew?” I asked, running a hand through my hair and sighing loudly.  
  
“Yes, of course. But, well, it’s a rather large check. Suspiciously large…”  
  
“How much?” I bit back a “not looking a gift horse in the mouth” lecture and instead decided to trust my assistants instincts.  
  
“Two million dollars.”  
  
If I had been standing, I would have fallen over. “Two _million_?”  
  
Drew pulled a long, thin slip of paper out of his breast pocket and consulted it. “I couldn’t believe it either.” He held the check like it was a bomb poised to go off at any second.  
  
“Who?” I managed to croak out, my scattered brain exhausting itself trying to puzzle out this wildly unexpected donation.  
  
“That’s the other thing that had me concerned,” he began, then stepped forward to pass the check into my hands. He looked relieved to be rid of the thing. “I mean, a man like that doesn’t just give two million dollars to an _animal shelter_ without some ulterior motive, right?”  
  
I blinked down at the slip of paper and gasped aloud. Scrolled neatly under the obscene amount of the donation it was unmistakable.   
  
Tony Stark had signed the check with bold, black ink.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

_This isn’t real._

_You are dreaming, Lucile._

_When you open your eyes, it’ll be gone…_

I forced myself to peep behind my hands which were pressed tightly into my eye sockets.

_Fuck._

The little slip of paper remained, isolated on my desktop and almost daring me to snap and hold it over an open flame. I made a frustrated noise, something between a growl and a sob, and shoved the offensive thing into a drawer. (“Out of sight, out of mind.” If only that actually worked.)

Although he was undoubtedly more useful actually  _working_ , I couldn’t stop myself from asking Drew to find a way to get a hold of Tony Stark for me. I might have slept with the man, but other than vaguely knowing where he lived I had no contact information whatsoever. Not to mention that the thought of thanking Tony (and discovering whatever ulterior motive he had for dumping a ton of cash) so early in the morning, made me want to lose what little breakfast I managed to forced down.

I made a mental note to give poor Drew a raise.

A scream threatened to escape from my throat. I didn’t need this now. Not piled on top of all the other things screwing with my head today.

But I was late to work this morning and the incident had eaten up at least half an hour, leaving me grumpy and nearly two hours behind schedule. Pushing everything else to the back-burner, I gathered up a chart and went to go check on the furry charge waiting for me in exam room one.

On par with the theme of emotional torture, my first patient of the day threatened to unravel me completely.

He was a ten year old pit-bull mix that one of the volunteers had ironically named Lucky, and was perhaps the  _unluckiest_ dog I had ever met. Abandoned, adopted, hit by a car, lost a leg, abandoned again and left to fend for himself on the streets of L.A. You name it, poor Lucky had probably been through it twice.

But, despite his alarming past, the old dog had a gentle soul and a sweet disposition, and over the year that he’d been at the shelter (pit-bulls with four legs being hard enough to place, geriatric three-legged ones nearly impossible) he had become a fast favorite. So, when I opened his chart to find “marked weight-loss; decreased appetite; lethargy” written in my vet tech’s messy scrawl, my heart dropped down to my stomach.

Lucky thumped his tail in greeting as I bent down to examine him where he laid on the cold linoleum floor. When I was finished checking his teeth and gums he flopped over onto his side for a belly rub.

So, naturally, I sat on the floor and pet the poor creature, sobbing into his brindle coat for a good chunk of an hour.

It wasn’t a very productive morning.

During my lunch break, after several more, less heart-wrenching exams, I was holed up in my office with a mug of green tea and a banana. The queasiness from earlier still hadn’t quite subsided much to my dismay. Lucky, who I didn’t have the heart to return to his kennel was asleep in the corner, curled up on a nest I made for him out of old towels. The reassuring sound of his soft snores soon filled the small room.

Just as relaxation was starting to take a hold, the phone rang, startling the both of us.

"Yes," I answered wearily, shooting an apologetic look to the sick dog in the corner. Lucky stood up, turned a few circles, then collapsed back down into his makeshift bed with a mighty huff. It made me oddly jealous; If only I could nap away my problems as well.

“ _I found him. Line 2.”_  came Drew’s triumphant voice. It took me several long seconds to put it together.

“ _Him_  him?”

“ _Yes, Mr. Stark is on hold as we speak.”_

"How in god’s name did you manage to put  _Tony Stark_  on hold?”

“ _I might have claimed to be Stockholm with the Nobel committee,”_  Drew replied, clearly pleased with himself.

"Oh, Drew, I could kiss you!" my assistant never failed to amaze me. The mental note became a physical one as I scribbled "double Drew’s salary" on a sticky note.

“ _That won’t be necessary, Ms. DeVane,”_ he replied formally, but his voice betrayed his amusement.

"Hold on, I didn’t know you could do a Swedish accent," I teased.

“ _I happen to be a man of many talents.”_

"Let me hear it."

“ _No!”_

"Oh come on!"

“ _May I remind you that you have an actual Superhero on hold?”_

"Oh please, his only superpower is being stupidly rich," I scoffed, taking a sip of tea and leaning back in my chair. Trash-talking Tony surprisingly relaxed me better than anything else I’d tried.

“ _Lucile-“_

"Yes?"

“ _Quit stalling.”_  And with that, Drew rang off, leaving me little choice but to switch over to line 2. I took a deep breath and bit the proverbial bullet.

"…Tony?" My voice came out sounding about 10 years younger, much to my chagrin.

“ _Now why did I ever doubt that I was actually talking to Stockholm?”_

I wasn’t exactly sure what I expected to feel when I heard his voice again (revulsion? anger? indifference?) but it sure as hell wasn’t  _relief_. Here I was talking to a man who I had previously vowed to omit entirely from my life, and my dumb-ass brain had to go and feel relieved. Though, to be fair, the feeling did come coupled with the almost insurmountable urge to slap myself in the face. I can be self-punishing like that.

"Oh, um, yeah, sorry about that."

“ _Right. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just hang up.”_  Despite his words, he sounded more curious than actually mad. I took that as a good omen.

"It’s Lucile." My name hung between us for an agonizing moment. My stomach clenched painfully, waiting.

“ _Huh…”_

And just like that, something in me snapped. “Yeah, you know, the woman you fucked- never to contact again  _except_  to send her a moronically large check with absolutely NO explanation! That Lucile.”

“ _Wow, okay. No, Lucy, I definitely remember you. How could I forget? I was just wondering why you had the Swedish Chef from the Muppets call me.”_

"Oh," I let out a deep breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding. "I knew he couldn’t pull off the accent!"

“ _Well, you are right about that.”_

"Sorry, that was Drew, my assistant. He can be rather-"

“ _Special,”_  Tony supplied. I rolled my eyes.

"I was going to say committed."

“ _Sure you were.”_  I could picture him smugly perched at a desk, his feet propped up pompously. Just smirking at me.

"Stop it!" I warned, but Tony just laughed.

“ _Stop what, Lucy?”_

"You know very well. And stop calling me Lucy. I told you my name is Lucile," I demanded indignantly, the reason I was calling (and any relief I was feeling) flying right out the window.

“ _And my name is Anthony, your point being…?”_

“ _My point being_  that I would prefer you to call me by my  _name_. Only those close to me can call me Lucy.” My brain really was stupid to feel relieved. The only way I’d possibly feel relieved now would be if I crawled through the phone and throttled his snarky ass.

“ _Lucy,”_  he replied, slowly drawing out each syllable, his voice lowering at least an octave. (No, I didn’t just want to throttle him, I wanted to castrate the arrogant bastard with a dirty plastic spoon)  _"I’ve seen you naked, stretched out and writhing in ecstasy under me. I’m not sure how two people could get any closer."_

I blinked; any argument died on my tongue. The urge to crawl through the phone for a completely different reason snuck up on me.

“ _Hey, still with me there?”_  He must not have expected his remark to leave me dead silent. I let out a shaky little laugh.

"Um, y-yes." I sounded about 12 years old again. Thank god Tony took pity on me and ended his teasing or I probably would have cried again.

“ _Good, so Not-Lucy, I assume you had a reason to interrupt my terribly busy day-“_  he prompted.

I at least had the sense of mind to scoff before finding myself again. “Please, you know exactly why I’m calling.”

“ _Humor me.”_

"Fine." I gritted my teeth, back to wanting to cause him extreme bodily harm. "This morning I arrived at my office only to find that you, of all people, had made a rather generous donation to my shelter. And by ‘generous’ I mean suspicious and obscenely large."

“ _That was an odd way to say ‘thank you Tony’ but you’re welcome all the same.”_

“‘You’re welcome’?”

“ _Yes, that is what I said.”_  At least he was back to being sarcastic. I could deal with sarcastic.

"Fine, thank you Tony-"

“ _See. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”_

"Don’t push it, Iron Man."

All the response I got was his throaty laugh followed by what sounded like ice cubes clinking together in a glass. I looked at my watch and rolled my eyes again. It was ten til one.

"So, that’s it then? The check was simply you feeling altruistic, with no hidden agenda whatsoever?" I asked, incredulous.

“ _Now, I never said that, did I?”_  Of course. I braced myself for whatever favor Tony Stark thought he could wheedle out of me.

“ _I have a proposition for you.”_

"Why do I have the sudden urge to remind you that I’m not a prostitute, Mr. Stark?"

“ _That’s too bad. This would be a lot easier if you were.”_

"I’m losing my patience, Tony."

I heard him sigh through the phone and felt strangely gratified. _”Alright, look I don’t want to do this over the phone. Where will you be in two hours?”_

"Hmm, let me think… at work, like all the other normal, respectable adults."

“ _You mean you work more than three hours a day? Dear god, woman, how do you survive?”_

"Hilarious. Are you wasting my time on purpose or…?" My lunch break was officially over five minutes ago, and I had a veritable avalanche of work to finish before the end of that day. I couldn’t let myself get caught up in the shit-storm that was Tony Stark for too long, or I’d never get anything done.

“ _Is it really time wasted if you enjoyed wasting it? Anyway, I actually have work to do as well, so how about I swing by your little shelter after and we can have a sincere conversation, hmm?”_

"Are you capable of having a sincere conversation, Mr. Stark?"

“ _You’ll just have to wait and find out, Lucy, now won’t you?”_ and with that he rang off, leaving me equal parts enraged and confused. Did he just invite himself over? And did I just let him?

"That man will be the death of me," I mumbled to myself as I hung up the receiver. Lucky gave a huge snort in his sleep, and I took it as a sign to shake off the conversation and get my ass back to work, the Iron Man looming over my head the whole time.


	7. Chapter Seven

For the record, I blame my insane hormone fluctuations for everything that happened from the moment Tony Stark set foot in my office to the second his flashy sports car sped off the property. It’s the only excuse I have for my inexplicable behavior, and it isn’t even a very good one.

We were kissing, ravenous and frantic, within five minutes of his arrival. I had closed my office door, turned around and he was there. Handsome and carefree with a dashing smirk on his tanned face. I was lucky I hadn’t melted into a puddle of human goo right then.

Brief pleasantries were exchanged. I vaguely remember Tony complimenting me on the smooth running of my shelter, and before I could broach the subject of his proposition, we had locked eyes and it was all over for me.

I reached up and snaked my arms around his neck as his hands smoothed their way under my shirt, passed my lab coat. The kiss grew more heated and I could feel my muscles relaxing in a way they hadn’t in such a long time. It didn’t matter in that moment who he was (a manipulating, arrogant bastard) or why he was here (to make me feel obligated to do his bidding because of the inappropriate check he wrote), all that mattered was that I felt good. And he was warm and smelled heavenly.

My body certainly remembered his, arching into his touch as he ran his palm from the small of my back to the swell of my breasts. Tony’s soft lips, contrasted by the bristles of his beard, moved to blaze a trail of kisses from my breathless lips to my collarbone. I caught and forced a moan that was building right back down my throat; the last thing I needed was my staff to hear this embarrassing lack of judgment.

Oddly enough, it was the freeing feeling of my bra being unclasped, that blissful moment when one’s breasts are no longer confined or pushed up against gravity, that brought me back to my senses. Tony slyly crept one hand up to cup my now bare chest, but I caught it and shoved it back down before it distracted me further.

“We should stop,” I murmured, half-heartedly. Tony either didn’t hear me or just flat out ignored me and kept on kissing up and down my neck. If he left a hickey I’d have no way to hide it, so I grabbed his head and held it back up to eye level.

“You came here to talk, remember?” I tried my best to look stern while looking into his handsome, just-kissed face.

“‘S’not important,” he mumbled and brought me right back into another searing kiss. I gave him a moment to enjoy himself, but pulled away again as his hands inched back up to my breasts.

“We’re not having sex in my office, Tony.” Clearly, when dealing with men like Tony Stark, being direct and to the point was the best approach. He took a step back and ran both hands through his hair.

“Party pooper,” he accused with a mock-glare.

“Oh don’t even start with me right now! I am so not in the mood,” I replied, reaching behind and under my shirt to refasten my bra. It felt like such an odd thing to do at work, and for a moment I entertained the thought that I was really dreaming and today had never happened. It was going pretty well until the nausea from earlier increased tenfold, and my head filled with the aching throb of my own heartbeat.

“Are you okay, Lucy?” It was such an unexpected thing for him to ask. Never before did I ever associate Tony Stark with caring about my well-being, or even remotely being aware that I had feelings other than sexual desires. I didn’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity or sob (like one is want to do when the answer to the question is a glaring “ fuck no”).

“Not particularly, no,” I replied, intending to sound aloof, but failing horribly because I saw Tony get that look on his face that men tend to get when they sense the woman in front of them is about to cry. A mix of equal parts pitying and terrified. An awkward silence hung in the air between us like a tangible thing I could reach out and strangle.

And then Lucky, who I had wrongly assumed was still sleeping soundly in his corner, ambled up on his three good legs toward Tony and, as a greeting, stuck his big, wet nose right in Tony’s crotch. God bless the handicapped canine.

The urge to cry turned into hysterical laughter as Tony yelped like seal and doubled over in obvious pain. He then shouted some rude names at poor Lucky, who didn’t even look phased at all and was calmly sniffing Tony’s leather shoes. I somehow had the motor control through my tears of mirth to slap him for insulting such a sweet dog.

“He was just trying to say hello to you,” I gasped out as I started to come down my my insane giggling.

“Oh, yeah I’m sure he was. You know if you hadn’t already neutered him, I’d have half a mind to kick the furry bastard right in the-”

“Shut your mouth before I neuter you too!”

Tony, still a little red in the face, winced involuntarily and shifted his stance. “That isn’t funny,” he replied very seriously.

“It wasn’t supposed to be,” I said darkly and bent down to gently lead Lucky back to his nest of towels. Once he was settled, I tossed him a treat from the jar on my desk.

“Why does that get a treat? I’m the one that got nosed in the junk!” Tony pouted, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Where’s my treat?” he breathed into my ear as he rested his head on my shoulder and nuzzled into my neck. Unfortunately for Tony and his “junk”, my mood had swung in yet another direction and I was not feeling the whole “being touched” thing.

“Feel free to help yourself,” I replied, shrugging him off me and stepping behind the shelter of my desk. I held out the jar of dog treats to him. “I also have beef flavored if you don’t like lamb and rice.”

“Ah, no thank you. I’m trying to watch my figure.”

I slouched into my office chair, took a deep breath in and released it with a mighty sigh. Resisting the urge to slam my head down on my desk and pretend he wasn’t there, I instead looked Tony square in the eyes with a (hopefully) woefully not amused expression and bade him to sit down. After a moment, he gave in and took a seat in one the paw-print upholstered chairs in front of my desk.

“So, you mentioned over the phone that you had something to discuss with me.” I began, desperately trying to seize the reins of this strange meeting and steer it into a responsible, adult conversation.

Clearly fighting back a laugh, Tony nodded. “Yes, I have a business proposition for you Ms. DeVane.”

“What business could Stark Industries possibly have with an animal shelter. Are you looking for a four-legged sidekick? Wait, that actually makes sense. No human could ever put up with your massive ego long enough to be second banana to his majesty, so you’re going to make an Iron Dog?” So much for adult conversation. I knew mocking Tony hardly made me any better than him, but I couldn’t help myself. I guess you could say he brought out my sarcastic side.

“God, no. Iron Dog is still very much in the theoretical stages of development. It’s way too soon to be looking for test pilots. I was thinking of something more along the lines of you becoming my second banana, as you so eloquently put it.”

“Don’t you already have an assistant, Tony? And regardless, I have a job. If you haven’t noticed, you are in fact sitting in my office. I even have my own assistant and everything.” I replied, speaking slowly and clearly (and of course, mockingly). At this point I would have paid him to leave me alone, but god knows the man already had enough money.

“Dear God, this is your office? I thought we were in a supply closet!” Tony quipped, and my hands itched to slap that stupid smirk of his face. So, yeah, my office was a little cluttered. But that tends to happen when one is in charge of an animal shelter that is rapidly becoming much too big to be contained by one building.

My eyes flicked briefly to the check still sitting casually on my desktop, and I bit my cheek to prevent another wisecrack from slipping out. No matter how infuriating I found the man, his money would solve a lot of problems at the shelter, and if his proposition could bring in even more, I had to at least listen to Tony. My stomach churned at the thought, but I held my head high and regarded him with an uneasy smile.

“Yes, this is my office. And I hate to rush you, but I do have to get back to work soon, so-”

To his credit (and my surprise), Tony caught my sudden switch to professional-mode and went along with it. “Ah, right. Well, this isn’t a job offer per se. It’s more of a uh, partnership.”

“This isn’t some Christian Grey sex-contract thing is it?” I blurted out, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable by his words. I nervously twitched in my seat when he grinned salaciously at me.

“Sweetheart, Christian Grey has nothing on me. And no. This partnership, unfortunately is not about sex, well unless you’re interes-”

“Just get to the point, Iron Man.”

He took a deep breath, slouched in his chair and let out an enormous sigh. “I kinda, sorta need you to be my fake girlfriend.”

Was I having a stroke? I blinked. “Fake...?”

“Yes, fake. Now before you say no-” He said as my brain kick-started back up from it’s shock and I opened my mouth to protest, vehemently. “Your father is the one that came up with the whole scheme.”

“My dad... what the hell are you talking about Stark?” Charles DeVane may not have been the world’s number one father, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t the type to pimp out his only progeny. Especially not to his main business competitor.

“The merger,” he replied like I was mentally deficient. “Your old man came up with this PR stunt to help appease the boards and public. You, the prodigal daughter, and I make a few appearances at some-”

“Shut up! Merger? And my dad hates you. The only reason you’re ever invited to any of his events is for the press.”

Tony smirked at that, a stupid, knowing smirk that made me want to sic Lucky on him again.

“AND-” I started again, “I have absolutely nothing to do with my father’s company. So, my answer is no. Sorry for any inconvenience. I’ll have my assistant show you out.” Tony’s hand shot out to grab my wrist before I could buzz Drew.

“You kinda just summed up whole point of this. Stark Industries and Future Dynamics have never exactly been chummy. And the press sure as hell has realized that through the years. But with the merger coming up, things have to change. The last thing we need is people to assume this as a hostile take-over-” I cut him off again, after yanking my wrist out of his grasp.

“You keep mentioning this goddamn merger. What merger?” My stomach did this weird, anxious flip and I think I knew the answer before Tony answered.

  
“Your dad didn’t tell you? I’m buying Future Dynamics.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. Blame my knee. Seriously.

When I was a little girl I used to play this game during those blistering, sweet, innocent summers. A friend and I would plunge into the pool and take turns shouting words and phrases under the water for the other to guess. It always wound up with the two of us giggling like mad and gasping for air, before diving back under for more. It was silly and fun and simple, everything childhood was supposed to be.

Tony’s speech started to remind me of that game, though it was edged with a desperation that took my breath away, watching his mouth move and hearing the _whaum whaum_ of his voice, knowing that they are supposed to be words, but being unable to comprehend any of them. And instead of simply surfacing in the water when the burn in my lungs became too great, I felt as if something was holding me underwater, my vision tunneling as my cluttered office spun around me. **  
**

In a dizzying flash, Tony’s face was right smack in front of mine, making those noises again that I vaguely recognized as words. His arms bracketed me in my chair, his body heat forcing me to suddenly realize how cold I was. I shivered down to my bones. **  
**

“Lucile..?” My name, my _actual_ name and not the shortened version that he annoyingly insisted upon using, was able to slice through the murky water and help unclog my mind that had gone sluggish. Well, my name and the overwhelming whoosh of nausea that struck me like a freight train. **  
**

“Move-” I bit out after a moment of sheer terror that I was about to vomit what little lunch I managed to stomach all over Tony Stark’s thousand dollar suit. **  
**

“What? I’m not hitting on you this time. This is my concerned face. You went all white and-” his rambling was cut off by my hands shoving at his chest. I quickly sidestepped Tony with a poorly muffled whimper and rushed to the bathroom connected to my office. **  
**

I barely made it in time to avoid a horrendous mess. My body shudder violently as I straightened and flushed the toilet. Tony appeared in the doorway as I was splashing cool water on face and washing out my mouth at the sink. **  
**

“Should I be insulted? This isn’t the first time you’ve lost your cookies after we canoodled,” Tony pointed out, valiantly trying to veil the look of disgust on his face. I snorted. **  
**

“Canoodled, really?” I croaked out, my voice sounding like I had gargled broken glass. **  
**

“I was being polite. Would you rather I had said-” **  
**

“No, just no.” I cut him off, knowing him well enough to realize that letting him finish that sentence was a bad idea. I shoved past him, slapping away a wandering, helpful hand, and made my way on wobbly knees back to my desk chair.

Tony heaved out a tremendous, melodramatic sigh before throwing himself down again on the chair across from me. “Really, Lucy,” and of course we were back to ‘Lucy’. I rolled my eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t be thrilled with the arrangement, but Jesus, does the idea of spending some fake quality time with me really make you upchuck?” **  
**

Arrangement? Fuck, I suddenly remembered our conversation before I had gotten violently ill. Tony Stark was buying my father’s company. The old man hadn’t even made a peep to me about retiring and all of a sudden he was auctioning off his business to his nemesis. Not to mention said father also wanted to pimp me out to Tony Stark as a PR stunt. It was a lot to take in at once, and combined with my apparently waning health, my brain was having a hard time processing it all. **  
**

I grimaced and rubbed at my temples in a vain attempt to soothe my incessant migraine. “Not everything is about you, Tony. I’m just not feeling my best today.” **  
**

“Wait, you’re not contagious are you? Should I be worried, because we just played tonsil hockey and-” I cut him off with just a glare this time. I felt a smug sense of accomplishment at that. **  
**

“You’ll be fine. I probably just have an ulcer or something. Golly, maybe it’ll turn out to be cancer and give me a valid excuse to never see you again.” I threw a bright, sarcastic smile at him. He frowned back. **  
**

“Cute. We really should get all this animosity between us out in the open before our first public appearance. They may be blood sucking urchins, but the press usually is spot on when it comes to body language.” I silently wished Lucky would get up and nose him in the balls again. **  
**

“Tony, I’m sorry, but I’m not pretending to be your girlfriend.” I wasn’t even going to consider it. End of discussion. He could go back to scheming with my dad (which was apparently a thing that happened now) and come up with a new strategy. None of this was any of my concern anyway. **  
**

“Oh, I think you’ll change your mind.” That stupid fucking smirk. I imagined witches would have similar smiles on their faces as they lured gullible children into their clutches. **  
**

“Really? Why, because you wrote the shelter a big fat check? You gonna blackmail me?.” **  
**

“No, that money’s yours no matter what your decision. I know you’ll say yes because of _this_ -” he paused to dramatically take out a folded piece of paper from the breast of his suit and laid it out on my desk like a poker player flashes a royal flush. **  
**

I glared defiantly for a moment before reaching out to unfold the paper. Only to be even more confused than before. “An aerial photo of a field?” **  
**

“Not just any field, over 50,000 square feet of flat, prime, rich California land. Stark Industries used to use it for testing experimental ammunitions. It has since been shut down and meticulously scrubbed clean by only the finest of explosive disposal experts. There’s a similar, smaller area in New York, but as of right now it’s still technically ‘live’.” **  
**

“Let me guess, I “date” you,” for an added touch, I rather aggressively did the finger air quotes. “And you _give_ me millions of dollars worth of real estate?” **  
**

“No, you help my business out and I return the favor.” It felt akin to making a deal with the devil, Tony’s facial hair not exactly helping with the imagery, the way he twisted words to make the despicable seem innocuous. Tempting me with something desperately needed. **  
**

“We can quibble what to call it, but every way its an awful lot like prostitution.” **  
**

“Prostitution, business deal. It’s all semantics, Lucy. Everyone whores themselves out for something at sometime,” he said with a careless shrug. “That’s just the way the world works. I’m not asking for your first born child, just a couple public appearances.”

I would like to say I stood my moral ground, that I held my head high and told Tony and the rest of the business world to go fuck themselves. That I was no one's whore. I always used to imagine myself as this pillar of self-reliance, an independent that remained rooted to her ideals no matter the price. I was the heiress of a fortune 500 company, a veritable tech empire, and I gave it all up to pursue my own dreams, be my own person, pay my own way. **  
**

But one look around my crowded, cluttered office space, one shared glance with the aging dog curled up on the floor, and I crumbled like cheap foundation. **  
**

I guess it was the realization that some things were worth sacrificing your dignity for that finally made me say yes to the half-baked scheme. The earnestness in Tony’s voice probably had a little to do with it too. **  
**

“Okay,” I breathed out after a long pause. Not surprisingly, knowing that I was agreeing to this  because of a higher calling didn’t make it any less painful. **  
**

“Okay?” Tony parroted, an actual look of shock on his face. I took solace in the fact that at least I was still able to blindside him. **  
**

“There are still conditions and stipulations to be hashed out and agreed upon, but okay. I’ll submit to being your _fake girlfriend_.” Another wave of nausea washed over me and I had to dig my fingernails into my desk chair to fight through it. **  
**

“Hmm,” Tony murmured, thoughtfully. “Maybe I should start out all my business meetings with heavy petting.”

I sputtered and nearly choked on my words. “Please, don’t make me regret this,” I practically begged. **  
**

He smirked back at me, thankfully restraining the laugh that twitched at his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it, dear. Now, all there's left to do is let the lawyers churn out an acceptable document, get our names in ink, and we will officially be a happy, corporate-fabricated couple.” **  
**

“Every little girls’ dream,” I replied weakly, the thought of paperwork and dealing with lawyers making the situation all the more real.

Tony frowned at my bleak sarcasm. “Cheer up, Lucy. I’ve been known to be quite a catch. World’s most eligible bachelor, if I remember the quote correctly.”

“The first words you’ve ever said to me were ‘is this seat taken?’” I countered, not exactly saying spectacular things for my taste in one-liners considering the fact that I went home with him after less than ten minutes. Tony picked up on my lapse and his shark-like smirk was back with a vengeance.

“Never said I was totally original.”

“Yeah, my dad has mentioned that about you.” It was a low blow, I’ll admit, but in my defense, I was having a really really bad day. And well, _he started it_ with the whole ‘Lucy’ business.

“Ouch, alright, so kitty has some claws. Good to know.” It irked the bitter five-year-old in me that my very school-yard-esque jibe hadn’t even phased him. “Well, I’ll have my people call your people yada yada yada and all that jazz. It’s been a pleasure, Ms. DeVane.” Tony stood up and stuck out his hand for a friendly, business shake. **  
**

I pushed myself up more slowly than I would have liked, but I was still feeling weak. I hesitantly accepted the handshake, acutely aware that my hands were shaking and my palms were cold and sweaty. “Likewise,” I replied as brightly as I could, forcing myself to smile in order to hide how terrible I felt. **  
**

Tony apparently once again saw through my ruse because on his way out of my office he paused and turned back to me. “And uh, Lucy,” he cleared his throat and awkwardly adjusted his perfectly straight tie. “Maybe you should see someone or something, you know? You don’t … you don’t look so good.”

“Oh gee, thanks.” **  
**

“I didn’t mean it like that. But since you brought it up, _a pantsuit_ , really?” He made a face like he just tasted sour milk.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, bye Tony! Leave before I throw something at you.”

Tony held his hands up in surrender and shot me a wink. “ _Bye Lucy_!” he called out before wisely making his retreat.

I collapsed back into my chair as soon as he was out of range, trying my damndest not to lose it again today. But sweet Jesus, did Tony Stark just express genuine concern for my health? How far gone does a girl have to be before Mr. Ego himself takes notice? I must have cut quite the awful picture. **  
**

Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on how you look at it), I didn’t have long to ruminate on that particular miserable thread of thought. Not even minutes after Iron Man had left the building, a curly, black haired head appeared in my doorway, shortly followed by the rest of the shelter’s adoption counselor’s tall, wiry body.

“Why in _God’s_ name- Lucile?” She started in her usual unapologetically loud voice, but stopped to say my name delicately, speaking slowly and clearly like she was addressing an accident victim. And there went another boost to my self esteem. “You okay, girly? You’ve gone white.” **  
**

“I’m fine, Anita, just tired.” The older woman didn’t looked too convinced, so I scrambled to change the subject. “Did the house check for the new fosters go well?” **  
**

Thankfully, Anita let my current state of health drop with an exasperated shake of her head. “Of course it went well, I would have told you if anything went wrong. How long have I worked here?”

Anita was the first person I had hired when my business partner and I decided to open a shelter, and it remains the best decision I had made in my life, ever. She’s fiercely loyal, and expresses a passion and talent for homing animals that borders on the absurd. The shelter would surely crash and burn without her.

But, all that loveliness aside, Anita also harbored a powerful obsession with gossip. The woman had dirt on everyone. No secret, no private business was safe from Anita Harris. She was a rumor bloodhound and I could almost see her nose twitching with excitement as she picked up the scent of something potentially juicy. **  
**

“Great,” I tried to muster up my usual enthusiasm for when one of our animals gets settled with a new home, but couldn’t even ballpark it. Anita’s narrowed eyes made me panic and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I don’t feel good,” I half-yelled, announcing it awkwardly like I was addressing a venue full of semi-disappointed rock fans. The accompanying wince was so hard it made my face hurt. **  
**

“Yeah, honey, I can see that,” she acknowledged, looking concerned and for that moment I was allowed to entertain the thought that she let it drop, hell maybe by some miracle she didn’t even see Tony Stark leaving my office.

Of course, today my luck clearly called in sick (or was too embarrassed to show) and the second Anita opened her mouth to continue, I knew I was caught in a corner. 

“So, uh, Lucile, _sweetie_ , what was Tony Stark doing in your office?” I think I actually whimpered, but Anita carried on like she didn’t hear. “I mean, jesus, what reason does the man even have for being in the area code?” **  
**

“Business…?” I answered weakly, bracing myself for the adoption counselor to pounce. Her sharp, raised brow and sneering lip were enough to make me want to hide under my desk. Oh boy, did I have it coming for me. **  
**

“Business,” she repeated, almost nonchalantly, like we were chatting about the weather. It was more intimidating than the sneer. “That’s all you have to say? Tony “Iron Man” Stark saunters out of your office, leaving you red as a blushing,virgin schoolgirl may I add, and you say “ _business_ ”. Nope. Not buying it, try again.”

“I- but, hey!-” I blustered, raising my hackles a little in defense. “Who’s the boss here, Anita? I don’t think you can talk to me like that!” **  
**

“Oh please, Lucile. We have not been working _together_ for years only for you to pull the boss card now, and keep secrets from me.” **  
**

She did have a point. Anita had been there from the beginning when I was just some billionaire’s daughter with a harebrained scheme to open an animal shelter out in the middle of B.F.E. California with nothing but a degree and a can-do attitude. I couldn’t give her nothing. So, although I couldn’t tell her _everything_ (Tony had implied confidentiality), I swallowed my pride, dignity and what little fight I had left in me, and well, sort of lied right to the face of one of my best friends. Tony Stark and I were in a ~~business~~ relationship.

  
And thus the longest time Anita Harris had ever been rendered speechless was recorded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I adore all of you <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at 9th-hennepin.tumblr.com so come on over and say hello!


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